Stay
by viennacantabile
Summary: On the night of her sixteenth birthday ball, Queen Lucy takes some time to talk to an old friend and is visited by the idea that, not only is he far from old, he may not be just a friend anymore. Third of a four part oneshot series on Lucy/Tumnus.


Note: Third of a four-part series featuring Lucy and Tumnus.

Disclaimer: do I really need to admit that I'm not C.S. Lewis and I don't own anything except the word-order? Surely not. :)

—viennacantabile

* * *

Stay

.

"Happy sixteenth birthday, my dear," the High King Peter greeted his sister, the Queen Lucy. He surveyed her blue and gold dress with boyish shyness belying his twenty-one years. "Do you know, I am so dazzled and astonished by my beautiful sister-queen that I feel I don't quite know you." He smiled slightly. "You do look lovely, Lu. I suppose that the effort and expense of this small affair was _perhaps_ worthwhile. Do kindly refrain from informing our dear sister, though."

Lucy laughed. "Silence to the grave. Peter," she said, frowning, "Do you know where Tumnus might have disappeared to? I can't seem to find him, and I _would_ like to have one of our nice talks tonight."

Furrowing his brow, Peter considered this. "Perhaps the garden? I seem to remember a certain naiad pursuing him quite determinedly, so he might have sought refuge there."

"Thank you, my dear brother," Lucy smiled. "By the by, Ed might also thank you if you rescue him," she said, dimpling. She jerked her head to her besieged dark-haired brother, who seemed to have been cornered by half the eligible maidens in Narnia and the surrounding countries. The other half, she saw, seemed to be heading toward the golden-haired brother at her side with quite a determined air. "Perhaps you might make yourself scarce, as well."

The High King paled. "By the—how many are there?"

Lucy grinned. "Does it matter? The Princess Maoirse alone is worth several hundred."

"I'll send Peridan for Ed," Peter promised, then vanished so fast that Lucy wondered if her esteemed brother had turned to dabbling in magic in his spare time.

She turned back just as the horde of women reached her.

"My dear Lucy," the fiery-haired Maoirse simpered, batting eyelashes over violet—and possibly violent—eyes. "Perhaps you could tell us where your honored brother might be?"

Lucy crossed her arms, unimpressed by the Terebinthian princess. "I believe he may have fancied a moonlit stroll by the sea," she innocently suggested. She paused, then added artfully, "Perhaps he might enjoy some company?"

The horde stampeded off without another word. The Queen glanced to her left to find Sallowpad the Raven, perched on a nearby crenel.

"A veritable font of information you are tonight, Majesty," croaked Sallowpad, black eyes glittering in amusement. "All offered in good faith, I trust."

"Of course," Lucy smiled. "Though," she allowed, "the waves and the sand _could_ have simply disastrous consequences for their lovely little slippers, and our moonlit stroller _may_ have actually been Rumblebuffin, as I regrettably wasn't quite attending to my conversational partner at the time…" She shrugged. "_So_ careless on my part. I must remember to send my apologies tomorrow."

"As I am sure your royal brothers will, also," replied the Raven. "The circumstances that prevented their enjoying the company of such beauties as those were most unfortunate, indeed." Sallowpad cawed a hoarse laugh.

Lucy grinned at the old Raven. "Well said. Now tell me, Master Sallowpad, do you know where my dear friend Tumnus has wandered to?"

"The answer to that inquiry depends on your intentions towards the Faun in question," the Raven said sagely, eyes gleaming. "Were they as inordinately dishonorable as I suspect that of those lovely ladies' were, I could not in good conscience betray my good friend Tumnus to you, Majesty."

Though she could not fully keep a sparkle of mirth from her eyes, the Queen faced Sallowpad solemnly, hand on heart. "I assure you, wise Raven," she said, "my intentions are entirely honorable."

Sallowpad inclined his head gravely. "Well, then," he said thoughtfully, "Master Tumnus is quite fond of the private terrace facing the sea. I expect this night should not be different."

Lucy smiled. "My thanks, Master Sallowpad."

"You are, as always, quite welcome, Majesty," said the Raven. "Many felicitations on the occasion of your birthday." He paused, adding a certain emphasis to his final words. "And may you always know what you desire most and so be favored by those desires."

The Queen blinked. "Thank you," she said, then departed in search of her cloven-footed friend.

The Raven chuckled gruffly. "It shan't be long, now," he said to himself. "Perhaps not soon—but it certainly shan't be long." He cawed, amused. "And luck to them both."

.

"Now, are you really hiding out on the balcony tonight, Master Faun?" Lucy asked with a mock-injured air as she stepped out onto the terrace. "I should think such an auspicious occasion as my sixteenth birthday celebration would deserve a bit more respect than that, Sir Tumnus."

The Faun turned, smiling. "Well," Tumnus mused, "if the lady herself weren't hiding out here with me, I might consider that question more seriously. As she is, I must ask her first: what might_your_ excuse be, my Queen?"

Lucy grinned. "I," she said pointedly, "felt the need for some air. Dancing is really excellent exercise, you know."

"And I," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "am quietly avoiding several nymphs whom I may have slighted at one time or another." He raised his glass. "As well as drinking copious amounts of wine to reconcile myself to my encounter with the one such lady who did locate me earlier this evening."

Lucy giggled. "You do have ever so many lady friends, Tumnus," she teased. "It's only to be expected that you should occasionally have to converse with one or two of them."

"On the contrary," Tumnus smiled. "Her Majesty knows I serve but one woman."

"Which is just as it should be, Sir Faun," Lucy smiled, both pleased and made slightly self-conscious by the compliment. She laughed, and whirled around, facing the sea to hide her flushed cheeks.

"You know," she said, artfully changing the subject, "I don't know why, but—I feel as though I never want to stop dancing." Lucy twirled again, arms held out, then gracefully leapt into one of the notches set in the stone wall, balancing easily. "I want to fly away, and never come down. Do you know, Tumnus, there are tales of lands far to the East, tales of marvels such as you could never dream of? Beyond Terebinthia, beyond the Lone Islands—sea serpents and far reaches where the stars meet the ocean. Can you imagine the sight, Tumnus?" she sighed dreamily. "I swear to you, one day I shall be there to see it myself."

Tumnus caught her hand as she gracefully alighted. "Don't fly too far away, Majesty," he cautioned, eyes on the sea below. He smiled a little. "You might leave a very sad Faun in your wake, and what would you do then?"

"Do not tease, Sir Faun," Lucy chided playfully, leaning against the stone wall. "You and I both know that you would manage perfectly well without me. After all, you did not fare so terribly before we met, did you?"

Tumnus gave a laugh that somehow gave no impression of mirth. "Did I not, milady?" he asked softly, dropping his gaze to his hooves in remembered shame.

Lucy swiftly read his blue eyes in a glance. "Certainly not, my dear Tumnus," she said gently, lightly resting a hand on his shoulder.

The Faun glanced at the hand, then at her. Lucy, abashed, removed it, a blush staining her cheeks. Hearing the opening notes of the next dance, she quickly held out her hand.

"A—and now," she stammered, still flustered, "would you favor me with a dance? For my birthday," she added quickly.

Tumnus inclined his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Well, let me see," he said, pretending to consider it. "It may be your birthday, but I cannot dance with just anyone, you know."

A sparkle came into Lucy's eyes as she regained her ground. "And rightly so; however, I'm quite confident you'll indulge me." She smiled wickedly. "That is—if you're not feeling too _tired_, Sir Faun."

Tumnus grinned. "Now _that_ sounds like a challenge."

Lucy smirked. "It most certainly is."

Tumnus raised an eyebrow. "Well! I may be a bit older than I used to be, dear lady, but I'll be hanged if that's going to stop me tonight." With that, he stepped up to the Queen, bowing slightly in the courtly fashion. "Milady."

She giggled. "My dear Sir."

"Might I have this dance?" he asked, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

She tilted her head. "Oh, I don't know, sir," she murmured in mock coyness, and in what was also a very fine imitation of her sister. "I do have other guests to attend to, you know. Though I'm sure you dance very well, indeed, Sir Faun." She laughed again, sidling past him.

He caught her hand, and she halted, suddenly breathless. "Daughter of Eve." His eyes were unreadable to a casual observer, but sparking with meaning to Lucy. "Dance with me."

Wordlessly, she nodded. The Faun pulled her to him, gripping her waist securely. She rested her left hand on his bare shoulder. Her right remained entwined with his.

Lucy wasn't exactly sure how he managed it, but Tumnus was a remarkably fine dancer. The mechanics of moving his goat legs to a dance clearly designed for human feet mystified her—yet Tumnus seemed wholly at ease.

They drew closer as the music progressed, til their heads were nearly touching.

"You know," Tumnus remarked quietly, "I haven't yet given you your birthday present."

"Sixteen!" she exclaimed mournfully. "Have I really gotten so old?"

Tumnus's mouth quirked up comically. "If you are old, milady, I am a decrepit old Faun waiting to be put out of my misery."

Lucy shook her head, comfortable against her friend. "Not old," she said. "Never old."

Tumnus smiled. "I am glad you think so, my dear," he said softly. He caressed her golden hair affectionately, then drew his hand back.

"Now," he declared, changing tack, "as I said: your birthday present." The Faun's breath tickled Lucy's ear as he began to sing softly, tenderly, in a warm, low voice:

_"Come hither, O dear one, and hear the song  
Of seabirds calling, of mermaid's thrall,  
Of lilies floating, pale and white,  
'mid Eastern seas of purest light_

_"O listen, blest maid, to the song of the stars,  
Of ancient heroes, come from afar  
To renew the land and boldly fight,  
O valiant Queen, they sing for you this night_

_"Then journey far, my faithful friend,  
And heed the call of the mortal World's End  
And then, by the light of the silver stars,  
Return again, from wherever you are._

_"Dreams may come, and dreams may go  
But you, dear heart, shall always know,  
That no other friend is as faithful and true,  
As I, dear Lucy, as I, to you."_

The dance ended, and still they remained barely a hair's-width apart.

"That was beautiful," Lucy finally murmured. "I did not know that you were so poetic, dear Tumnus." She smiled a little. "Another Narnian lullaby? It sounds different—from the one you played for me. When we first met."

Tumnus colored at the memory, blue eyes darkening. "Yes, well, this one isn't meant to bewitch you. Perhaps that explains the difference."

"Perhaps," agreed Lucy, nodding. She surprised Tumnus by embracing him tightly. "Thank you, my dearest, dearest friend. Indeed, no other can quite compare to you." Looking ruefully up at him, she laughed. "I'm afraid you've quite spoiled me for ordinary companionship, Tumnus. I shudder to think what life without you would be like—in fact, I can hardly remember it."

"I hope you will never have the opportunity to do so again," said the Faun quite seriously. He gazed down into her eyes, and Lucy found herself feeling oddly lightheaded and wondering why Tumnus seemed to be moving closer than before.

Suddenly, a distant cacophony of shrieks split the calm night air. "Help! Attack! Murder! Giants! We are killed by Giants!"

Lucy caught her breath, breaking away from Tumnus to peer down at the seashore, where several dozen frightened maidens were fleeing an equally terrified Giant Rumblebuffin. The Queen exhaled, half exasperated with and half grateful to the dithering princesses who had broken the spell that had seemed to come upon her moments before.

The Faun followed. "Now, whatever can the matter be?" he asked, highly entertained.

Lucy laughed. "'Tis a lengthy tale, concerning Kings, Princesses, and Giants," she warned. "Best not to start."

"There is time," Tumnus murmured, blue eyes settling on her again like a warm cloak.

Lucy colored. To hide her distraction, she drew a small watch from a pocket and gasped. Had an hour truly passed?

She stepped back slightly. "Indeed, no—I should return."

"Stay," he urged quietly, still grasping her hand.

Lucy was torn. She would have liked to remain but the birthday celebration had been given in her honor, after all. And—she needed to think, to clear her mind from the strange new feelings flooding her blood. The Queen shook her head. "It's very tempting, I admit, but—I mustn't, really. Susan's spent so much time planning this ball that she'll be ever so cross if I don't at least show my face there."

Tumnus heaved a sigh of mock-annoyance, releasing her hand. "I suppose I must let you go, then. If only for Queen Susan."

Lucy laughed. "Would that I had such power over Men and Beasts as my sister, Master Faun, if that is what is required to make you listen to me," she teased.

Catching her hand once more, Tumnus touched his lips to her fingers, sending an unexpected shiver rippling through Lucy's body. "Oh, believe me," he assured her, sounding amused, "You require far less than that to inspire _my_obedience."

Lucy dropped her eyes to the ground, suddenly self-conscious again as Tumnus released her hand. She retreated a few steps, then dipped into a slight curtsy. "Til tomorrow then, dear Tumnus," she said, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Til tomorrow," he smiled. "And—happy birthday, my dear Lucy."

.

.end.


End file.
